


touch-starved

by fluffysfics



Series: experiments [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 13 domming the heck out of the Master, F/M, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, mild dysphoria mention, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: The Doctor doesn’t let anyone touch her. Anyone.The Master, as always, delights in being an exception to her rules.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: experiments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717993
Comments: 18
Kudos: 151





	touch-starved

The Doctor did not like to be touched. Not this time around. She’d made that perfectly clear to her companions on many occasions, plenty of which she was still trying (and failing) to not feel too guilty about. Not like she could apologise when she’d sent them all back to Earth without her. 

Her last body hadn’t minded the occasional hug, despite all of his loud complaining. And in twenty four years on Darillium with River, they’d done an awful lot more than _hug occasionally_. 

The body before that had been childish and bouncy, planting hugs and kisses on any living thing that would take them, and quite a few living things that wouldn’t. That had got her in trouble a fair few times, back then. 

None of this changed the simple, immutable fact that this body, the thirteenth (or many more than thirteenth, really, but she could choose to only count the ones she _remembered_ , and _liked_ ), absolutely hated to be touched. 

And yet. _And yet_. 

The Master was sat on the edge of her workbench, idly running his fingers through her hair as she worked, and she wasn’t even annoyed at the mild disruption. In fact, the Doctor almost wanted to ask him for _more_. 

After about five minutes of trying to refocus on her current project (it was an alarm clock, but one that woke you up by bringing you custard creams- she just had to figure out how to stop it flinging the biscuits at her face), the Doctor gave up, setting aside her tools and looking up at the Master. He stopped touching her hair, and she almost pouted. 

“You haven’t done that before,” she observed, tilting her head slightly. 

“Done what?” He tipped his head in the same direction, looking faintly amused. 

“Touched my hair. Like that. Or...ever, actually.” She frowned, standing up so that the Master’s face was back at face-height again. It was bad enough that he had an inch or so on her this time around; she wasn’t going to give him any _more_ inches by staying where she was while he sat on a table. 

“Suppose I haven’t.” The Master smirked at her, all smugness and charisma. Clearly coming to live in her TARDIS had yet to change his tendency to pull infuriating expressions like that. “You like it, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” she said. Then... “Yes.” No point lying here. Lying wouldn’t get him to touch her hair again. 

“Oh yeah? What _else_ do you like, love?” The Master seemed to prickle with the thrill of a new discovery as he leaned forward, wrapping an arm around her waist, and the Doctor tensed and took a sharp step back. 

“Not that,” she snapped. Or...no, maybe that. She hadn’t been expecting that touch, and it felt a little more intimate than she’d been prepared for. But, on reflection...maybe she could put a little more thought into this. His hand in her hair had felt so good, unexpectedly good, and if she had control, there was no telling what _else_...

Oh, there were the makings of a nice plan. 

She stepped forward again, resting one hand on either side of where the Master had sat. Her face was hovering only a couple inches from his own, and to his credit, he didn’t try anything. 

“You up for a science experiment, Koschei?” The Doctor saw his face scrunch up at that, eyes rolling, and she gave him a second before continuing with the other half of her proposal. “It takes place in my bedroom. But if you’re going to look so _miserable_ about it, then...” 

“Would you look at that, I’ve changed my mind.” Suddenly he was all mischievous bright eyes and slightly-too-wicked smiles again. 

“Thought you might.” She leaned in and stole a kiss, relishing in the look of surprise- _pleased_ surprise- on the Master’s face when she pulled away. “C’mon.” 

With that, the Doctor pulled off her welding apron and the goggles from around her neck, set them carefully down on her chair, and strode off out of the workshop. A second later, she heard the Master’s footsteps run to catch up with her. 

“What exactly _is_ this experiment, Doctor?”

“You’ll find out. Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

“Don’t _say_ things like that, because they make my mind go places that I’m _sure_ yours isn’t going.” 

The Doctor stopped, and turned to face him, flashing him a grin. “Don’t be so sure about that, Kosch.” 

She spun on her heel, pushing open the door to her bedroom, and grinned to herself as she heard him stumble in surprise as he tried to follow her. Oh, she loved catching him off guard. Always had done, but there was something especially delicious about it now. 

The Doctor slipped off her boots, picking her way past a pile of discarded books and a cat-sized defunct robot that she _really_ needed to get around to fixing, and sat herself down in the centre of her bed. Unlike the rest of her room, the deep blue sheets were perfectly neat and tidy. Probably the TARDIS’ way of saying she needed to actually _use_ her bed more often. Well, she was using it now. Not that her ship was likely to approve of this particular usage, depending on how things went. 

She looked up at the Master, who was currently pulling his shoes off and dropping them at the end of her bed. The Doctor shifted back until she could stay mostly sat up and still rest against the pillows, and considered her next moves carefully. 

“Stay there,” she said, as the Master climbed up onto the end of the bed. He froze, on his hands and knees, and raised an eyebrow at her. “Right there. Just for a minute.”

“Is this payback for the Adelaide Gallery? You’re not doing a very good job of it. I’m not even properly kneeling,” the Master pointed out. He didn’t move, though. 

“If I was getting payback for that, I’d have you kneel on the floor for me,” the Doctor said, folding her arms across her chest. “And I think you would. But that’s not the point here.”

“Do I get to know what the point _is_?” 

“I don’t like being touched.” She sat up a little more, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. “But _you_ , I liked it when you touched my hair. I...trust you.” Despite the million and one reasons why she really shouldn’t, the Doctor could never let go of that fragile reminder that she was Theta and he was Koschei, and they could never, _never_ seriously hurt each other. 

But that was getting off-track, delving into thoughts she’d rather not consider during something that was supposed to be fun for her. “So. I want you to touch me. But only where I say you can. And when I say you can. Will you do it?”

“Could I ever say no?” There was suddenly something softer in the Master’s tone, a look in his eyes that she wasn’t quite prepared to deal with. The Doctor took a breath, and pulled off her coat, dropping it on the floor. 

“Take your jacket off,” she ordered. “And come up here. Next to me.” 

He did so. The Doctor’s eyes lingered on the way his arms looked in that nice shirt of his, and then they lingered over how he’d _crawled_ up the bed towards her, coming to rest at her side like she’d asked. Pretty, she observed. Hmm...

“Good boy,” she murmured, and was treated to the sight of the Master doing something that looked like choking on thin air. 

“ _What_ did you just call me?”

“I think you heard me,” she said, taking a chance on the fact that his indignation was out of surprise and not disgust. “If you want me to say it again, you can come here and kiss me. Hands, um...on my shoulders for now.” 

The Master hesitated, and for a moment the Doctor was sure she’d gone too far; she could feel the apology rising in her throat. But then his lips were pressed against hers, kissing sweetly but _insistently_ , starting so gentle and then demanding more, more with every passing second. 

She liked this. It took a little bit of getting used to, but the Master was _soft_ \- physically, at least. Soft lips, and the hands holding onto her shoulders were tracing small circles into her skin with his fingertips. The Doctor hummed softly, reaching up to drape his arms around his shoulders and kiss him back. 

_Be rougher_ , she ordered, using telepathy so she didn’t have to break the kiss. A moment later, the Master’s fingers were digging into her skin. Nice, that was nice too, when she’d asked for it. Wouldn’t be when she hadn’t, the Doctor thought to herself, but right now... _yes_. 

And then he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and _bit_ it, stopping that train of thought right in its tracks. 

“Ow! Not that rough,” she clarified, shooting him a stern look. He didn’t look very contrite, if the grin on his face was anything to go by. 

Well, if he was going to be like _that_...

The Doctor grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him in place and biting his lip right back. Hard. She soothed the spot with a kiss, feeling it starting to swell up under her touch. 

Already, she was learning. This body liked control, it liked kisses, but no lip biting. Biting someone else, however, was very fun. She’d have to remember that. 

“Kiss me again,” she ordered. “On my neck. And don’t you _dare_ leave a mark.” 

Despite looking slightly indignant about the biting, the Master rushed to obey, and the Doctor let her head fall back against the pillows and closed her eyes. The first brush of his lips made her shiver, the sensitivity wholly unexpected, and she clenched her hand in his hair a little tighter. Maybe this was too much...

And then it started to feel good. Really good. The Master kissed like he couldn’t bear to leave a single inch of her skin untouched, a perfect storm of lips and tongue and occasionally _teeth_ that had the Doctor breathing hard, an unfamiliar heat flooding through her. This felt like being worshipped, and as much as she might normally object to that, she could let this carry on forever. 

“Good,” she breathed. “Good boy. Don’t you dare stop, Koschei.” 

_Wouldn’t dream of it_ , he pressed into her head, the words laced with adoration. Some small part of the Doctor wondered if adoration was really any better than him feeling inferior to her just because of a past she didn’t even remember. The rest of her was too drunk on the feeling of it to care. 

She felt the slow, languid drag of his tongue up the length of her jugular, followed by the barest graze of teeth at the juncture between her neck and jaw. A soft, keening noise pierced the air, and it took a full two seconds before the Doctor realised that it had come from her. 

“I would do _anything_ to hear that noise again,” the Master murmured, his lips not leaving her skin. His breath was hot, each exhale coming just a little faster than it should be. 

“Take your shirt off,” the Doctor demanded. “And then mine.”

As desperately good as his mouth on her neck felt, she had a lot of body and he’d only explored a tiny fraction of it. She couldn’t abandon the experiment this early on. And even if she wasn’t planning on touching him much just yet, she couldn’t bear to be the only one shirtless. Too vulnerable. 

She really needed to stop _thinking_ , because in the time it had taken her to process all of that, she’d missed the Master taking his shirt off. He had a nice body, just as soft as his lips, and the Doctor found herself struck by the urge to touch. _Later_ , she told herself, lifting her arms so that he could pull her t-shirt off as well. 

The air was cool against unexpectedly heated skin, and the Doctor drew in a sharp breath. The Master’s hands went to the simple, dark blue sports bra she wore under her shirt, and immediately her own hands flew down to stop him. 

“No,” she said quietly. “Not- not today.” 

The Master looked at her quizzically, then took in her face and nodded, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. She hadn’t told him to do that, but she was too relieved by the lack of argument to call him out on it. She was...still adjusting to this body, she’d put it that way. That particular part was taking more mental adjustment than most. 

“Thank you.” She took a slow, deep breath. “Keep kissing. Anywhere there’s bare skin, you can go. Anywhere there’s not...please don’t touch. Hands...on my arms. You can move them. Touch as much as you want.” 

Orders given, she relaxed back against the pillows, feeling the Master’s lips trace along her collarbones, feeling him lavish kisses against the hollow of her throat, then slowly move down from there. Down to the top of her chest, skimming along the line of the fabric that still covered it. 

Everything felt _hot_ , almost feverish, the urge to _move_ starting to burn her up from the inside. The Doctor brought one hand back to the Master’s hair, fingers combing through the soft black strands. 

His hands were on her arms, as instructed, tracing up and down in ways that had goosebumps prickling up on her skin. Every so often, he’d let his nails graze down her arms instead of his fingertips, and the Doctor couldn’t help a few more soft, needy noises. 

“Move _lower_ ,” she ordered. The Master was spending too much time on the top of her chest, and she was getting impatient. 

She regretted giving the order about two seconds later, when the Master kissed the sensitive skin just below her ribcage and she _jumped_ , letting out a very uncontrolled squeak. He snickered against her skin, kissing the spot again. 

The Doctor tightened her hand in his hair, forcing him to look up. 

“Don’t _laugh_. Be nice.” She sat up a little, propping herself up with her free hand. “You want to be nice, don’t you, Koschei? You want me to tell you how good you are. It’s sweet, really.” 

The Master let out a breath, dark eyes meeting hers. Stars above, they were utterly beautiful eyes this time around. Especially now, filled with something like devotion. 

“I’ll be good,” he promised, in a voice as soft as velvet. 

“I believe you,” the Doctor murmured. She didn’t think she had a choice. 

She let go of his hair, sinking back against the pillows. The Master repositioned himself, coming to sit in between her legs. She didn’t bother telling him to move back; it was easier this way, she probably should have had him come down here a while ago. 

His lips were back on her skin, dancing over her ribcage and then dipping lower, to her stomach. The Doctor barely fought back the urge to squirm, suddenly _ticklish_ , and debated telling him to stop. Then she looked down, and saw him gazing up at her with those soft eyes she’d never seen on him before today, and suddenly nothing else mattered except watching him. 

“Koschei, you’re _gorgeous_ ,” she breathed. “Has anyone told you that yet, in this body?”

The Master’s face twitched slightly, and for a moment the Doctor thought she was about to be treated to a story from his past. Then-

“No. Not like that. Not like _you_.” 

The way he said _you_ had a shiver running up her spine, her hand curling a little tighter in his hair. Normally, the Doctor hated it when people took that tone with her, like she was _special_ for some undefined reason. But when the Master did it...she could believe that he meant it. That he really knew what he was talking about. If she was being realistic, no one knew her better than he did. So, just for a little while, she could allow herself to trust his flattery. 

She was snapped out of her thoughts by his lips on her stomach again, his tongue dragging along the flat plane of her skin in a way that really _did_ make her squirm. Another thoroughly embarrassing noise slipped out, and the Doctor decided that she was just going to have to stop caring about those. Clearly she was going to be making more of them. 

The Master had moved lower still, trailing hot kisses along the line of her trousers, from one hip all the way over to the other. When he was done with that, he looked up. Expectant. Hopeful. 

“You want to get me naked, do you?” The Doctor glanced down at her chest. _Almost_ naked. It would do for today. She sat up a little, considering. This was a lot, all in one day. But she’d been enjoying this so far, being in control _helped_ \- and then there was the undeniable fact of the ache between her legs that only seemed to grow stronger every time she looked at the Master. 

“If you’ll let me, my dear Doctor, I don’t think there’s anything I want more right now,” he said, borrowing a phrase from his past selves that right now, seemed to make her hearts melt. 

“Do it. And then- you know what I want.” As much as she wanted to be in control, she couldn’t quite bring herself to say the words. The Master was smart, he could figure it out. 

Really, she should have known from the devious grin on his face that he wasn’t going to play fair. 

The Master hooked his fingers into her trousers, pulling them down and removing them carefully, only to toss them over the side of the bed with _far_ less care. He moved to pull down her underwear next, and the Doctor appreciated the quick ‘are you sure’ glance before he did it so much more than she could say. Really, she wasn’t completely sure. But she trusted him, and she felt like...she had power, here. She could stop him if she needed to. 

Being this exposed around someone else was an utterly unfamiliar feeling in this body. Plenty of people had flirted, had touched even though she _very_ clearly hadn’t wanted them to, but no one had ever gotten this far. It was tempting to let her usual defensiveness creep back in, but instead the Doctor closed her eyes, relaxing as best she could in spite of the anticipation prickling through her veins. 

“Go on,” she demanded, still not quite daring to open her eyes. She felt the Master shift on the bed, braced herself, and then-

Felt his lips press against the inside of her thigh, down by her knee. She jumped, shying away from the unexpected touch. 

“That’s not what I- actually...no, carry on.” The Doctor reached down again, hand going back to the Master’s hair. His lips on her thigh were soft, warm, lighter touches than the heated kisses he’d been lavishing over the rest of her body. Everything was so much more sensitive here; perhaps it was a good thing that he’d gone for her thigh first, just to let her get used to this. 

As he inched higher, the Doctor felt that burning _need_ turning to desperation. She was used to the aching feeling of arousal coming with a hardness, something _solid_ and _tangible_ straining against her stomach and begging for release. This was different; everything felt too hot, a wet heat from somewhere _inside_ her that made her want to press her legs together and squirm just to relieve it a little. 

She swore the Master was slowing down as he moved further up. But eventually, _eventually_ , he reached the top of her thigh, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she’d get what she wanted. Finally, he would-

Go back down and start all over again at the bottom of her other thigh, apparently. 

The Doctor growled in frustration, tugging on his hair and snapping her eyes open. The Master looked up at her, sweet and innocent as anything. But there was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, if you knew where to look. 

“Koschei. Be good for me and put that pretty mouth to use for something other than _smiling at me like that_ ,” she snapped. Oh, frustration seemed to make her bold. Good. 

Not that it did much good. The Master tilted his head, looking for all the world like he had no idea what she wanted. 

“I have been using my mouth,” he said sweetly. “If there’s something else you _want_ , then you can just—“ 

“Eat me out _now_ , or I swear I’ll- ahh, fuck. _Fuck_.” The Doctor had to stop herself from pressing her legs together as the Master’s tongue licked a hot stripe right over everything she’d been wanting him to touch for at least the last five minutes. Her hand tightened in his hair to the point where it must be painful, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

She wondered idly where the Master had gotten so much practise at this, because there was no way anyone was naturally that good. Not a thought for right now, she decided, choking back a whimper as his teeth grazed lightly over something her brain felt too fried to put a name to. Something _excellent_ , yes, that would have to do for now. 

“More,” she said, hoping that it came out as an order and not the desperate plea it felt like. Either way, the Master complied, and the Doctor felt another ounce of her self control slip away. 

He worked her clit- yes, _that_ was the word she’d been looking for a moment ago- with his tongue like he had something to prove, like there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to see her come. Every so often, he would look up at her, and every time, the Doctor heard another desperate noise fall from her lips. 

The heat deep in her stomach was growing stronger, higher, until she couldn’t help but grind her hips against his face in an attempt to get _more_. Everything burned with the urge to keep going, _keep going_ , get more and more and more until it all spilled over. 

“Stop,” she said, the word coming out shaky and soft. “ _Stop_.” A little more forceful that time. 

The Master stopped. 

He looked up at her quizzically. Oh, she’d made a right mess out of him, between the messy hair and the hazy eyes and the slightly parted lips that were red and shiny from everything he’d been doing to her. The sight of it was almost enough to make her come on the spot. 

“You’ve been so good,” the Doctor said, marshalling all of her strength to not just drag his face down between her legs again. “Think you deserve to feel this, too.” 

She closed her eyes, initiating contact, and a second later he got the idea and strengthened the connection. The Doctor poured her feelings down towards him, and she felt the Master shake, heard him moan softly where he knelt between her legs. 

_More_ , she demanded telepathically, because that was so much easier now than trying to speak. She forced her eyes open, watching as the Master buried his face back against her and knowing that he could see everything she was seeing through their connection. 

She’d been so, so close to the edge before. It was only seconds before the Master had her back to that point, had her shaking and grasping his hair. 

This time, she didn’t stop him. 

The Doctor felt her world narrow to only a tiny section of her body, that heat inside of her gathering up tight before _exploding_ , a sudden burst of sparks that burned under every inch of her skin. She heard herself cry out, but she felt distant, apart from her own physical form as another wave of pleasure shuddered through her, then another. 

She could feel the Master still between her legs, hear the absolutely obscene noise he’d let out as he felt everything she was experiencing. He’d pulled away, and sunk his teeth into her thigh to cope with the sensations, but it wasn’t until everything started to slowly fade that the Doctor noticed the faintly throbbing pain of the bite. She blinked blearily at it, and hummed softly. She could forgive one bite. No one would see it there. 

After a minute or two, or maybe five, of basking in the afterglow, she pulled back from the mental connection and looked down at the Master. He’d settled between her legs, looking perfectly content with his head resting on her thigh. 

“Hey,” the Doctor said quietly. 

“...Hey,” the Master murmured. 

“Thank you. You were...really good. Really, _really_ good.” She felt like she couldn’t emphasise that enough, couldn’t offer him enough praise and thanks. 

A lazy smile spread over his lips, and slowly he moved up the bed, draping an arm over her chest and nestling his face into her neck. Not touch she’d asked for, but in this state, she was happy enough to take anything from him. It was...nice, to be held, after so long where no one had done that for her. Where she hadn’t _wanted_ anyone to do that for her. 

“Do I get to know the conclusions of your experiment, love?”

“My...?” Oh, yeah. The experiment. Did she like being touched. “Mm. Yes.” The Doctor thought for a moment, trying to turn her fuzzy feelings into something vaguely coherent. “I like being in control of when people touch me. You, specifically, don’t have enough data for other people. On that point, actually, I need to figure out if I like you touching me when I’m not in control. Whether it’s the control or the _you_ that’s the deciding factor.” 

The Master looked up from her neck, fixing her with another smirk. “You’re saying you need me to take control? I’m sure that can be arranged...”

“Not _now_ ,” she said, prodding him gently in the ribs. “Another time. I want to talk about that first, too.”

“Mhm,” the Master agreed easily. “Not now. _Now_... I want to fall asleep with you. Is that allowed?” Even though he sounded tired, there was still that teasing lilt to his voice that alternately seemed to infuriate her and make her love him a little more each time she heard it. 

“Yes, that’s _allowed_ ,” the Doctor said, rolling her eyes and wrapping her arms around him. 

This self didn’t like to be touched. But this self certainly liked the Master, and he’d always been her favourite exception to all of her rules. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed this shameless work of ‘I just want the Doctor to be happy’, comments/kudos much appreciated <3


End file.
